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SAMANTHA QUICKLY NOTICED his glum countenance when they met at the hospital later that morning.

He looked gravely ill and troubled, with distressed wrinkles etched on his forehead and barges under his glassy eyes, like someone who hadn’t had any decent sleep in days. Still shaken as he was, Jonathan took a moment to narrate to her the surreal details of the nightmare he had the previous night, away from the ears of the doctors or anyone else that may get riled by accounts of the paranormal.

He looked at her dreadfully. “I’m sure I saw something when I turned on the switch, Sam,” he told her. “It was there for a split second; a dark shape, like a man.”

Samantha paused, stared about in silent dismay.

“The dream;” he went on, in the same quiet yet dire tone, “it was so real. If you don’t believe me, Samantha, just take a look at me.”

She already did, and so she shook her head and sighed in bewilderment. It was simply an inconceivable notion that he could be feeling the impact of his subconscious experience on his physical body – enough to cause slight bruises, scalding, aches and even blood?


That was too hard to stomach; the stuff of fiction, and Samantha seemed visibly perplexed as she studied his countenance. She felt like asking if he’d been drinking but decided not to; that wasn’t the case here, she realized. Besides, if she found it hard to believe Jonathan’s story, it would mean her indirectly undermining the recent similar encounters she’d had on the same subject of the supernatural.

“I’m really spooked right now, I don’t know what to think,” he said quietly.

She said, “And you’re quite certain that there wasn’t a break in?”

“No,” he answered, “of course, not. The doors and windows were locked. Even the police confirmed that when they came around. It’s quite a puzzle how my apartment got torn apart without any signs of anyone breaking in.” Then he added, “But even if someone did come and do all those things, Sam, how does that explain the weird dream? I swear I had blood in my mouth when I woke up.”

“What’s really going on, Jonathan?” She looked worried, and her voice was a distraught and forlorn whisper.

“Hell if I know!”

They were both silent for a moment, pondering and puzzling the mysterious situation over in their troubled minds. Then Jonathan grunted, bowed his head somberly and blew his cheeks in frustration.

“I don’t know what to make of it, Samantha. But I swear it’s not ordinary.”

She nodded. “No, it isn’t.”

“I didn’t want to believe you at first,” he continued, “thought you were stressed and needed to relax, maybe go on a vacation to clear your head. But with the bizarre experience I just had…It’s scary, you know.”

She looked at him quietly, said nothing.

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